Tag Archives: Kaylee

Crying does not necessarily mean swine flu

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So I am being a good mommy today, volunteering in Colleen’s class, when I get a text: two friends, one I haven’t seen in months, want to do lunch. I am being rewarded for my volunteerism! Yay! As I head out of Colleen’s class, I make a costly mistake — I decided to walk a few feet further down the hall to look at Kaylee’s “student of the week” poster and peek in her class. Looking through the open door, I can see Kaylee’s face and I can tell she’s been crying. Mistake # 2: I did not dart away right then and there. Kaylee sees me, runs out the door and starts sobbing into my arms.

As I plead with her to explain what happened, I get only, “I missed you.” “I’m tired.” “I don’t know why I’m crying I’m just sad.” (Which may be true in 10 years but I’m not buying it at age 6.)  Her teacher comes out and apologizes; she had been in the hall testing another student and didn’t see what happened. The substitute came out and said something about messy coloring. Aha! Now we are getting somewhere. Kaylee cannot handle criticism, and I feel in my gut this is why she was crying. But she swears up and down she’s just tired and sad. Her teacher suggests maybe she doesn’t feel well, because this is just not like her. Which is when every teacher and aide walking down the hall suddenly went into Flu Frenzy. “Does she have a fever?” “These things come on suddenly you know.” “You probably shouldn’t bring her back tomorrow either.” Kaylee begs to come home, despite her teacher’s urgings to stay at least through lunch and see how she feels (finally, a sane person!), and eventually I relent, grudgingly cancelling my lunch plans.

As I check her out at the office, they check her temperature “just in case.” 98.2, “a little feverish.” WHAT? Since when? Somehow we get out of there without getting quarantined. When we arrive home, Kaylee skips into the house and asks for string cheese on her way downstairs to watch TV. Hmm.

“You need to tell me right now why you were crying.” Sobbing again. “The teacher said my coloring was scribbliiiing!”

My lunch plans down the drain because I peeked in on her right after she was criticized. I KNEW that was it, but no, the flu the flu THE FLU! So after lunch (peanut and butter and jelly is not the same as a restaurant with friends) we are headed back to school. Hopefully we have both learned a lesson — but probably just me.


Maybe if you lie a little more quietly I’ll believe you

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It’s Friday afternoon. Tommy and Mike are at baseball practice and I’m trying to relax on the couch, Toddlers & Tiaras on the TV, Us Weekly in my lap. (Yet only iced tea in the cup next to me — strange.) Kaylee and Colleen come running in with a friend asking for a snack. With 20 minutes until dinner and two children notorious for being “full” at mealtimes, I just couldn’t give in. All three very politely said OK and went to play in Kaylee and Colleen’s room. Sensing a disturbance in the force, I mute the TV and turn an ear toward the bedroom. Yep, that’s definitely a chewing sound. That I can hear from DOWNSTAIRS.

“Are you eating candy up there?” Silence.

“ARE YOU EATING CANDY UP THERE????”

Suddenly I realize they can’t answer me because their mouths are too full of candy. But all too soon they swallow and the silence is broken:

“I’m not but they are!” “You were too!” “You said you wouldn’t tell!” “You promised!” “Stop yelling at me!” Crying and screaming over each other. At this point I’m wishing I had just let them have the damn candy.

Friend goes home. Kaylee and Colleen sulkily eat dinner. TV and magazine go unwatched and unread. But I think I’ll have that glass of wine now.


One-track mind

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Now that Kaylee and Colleen are in first grade, they do writing exercises every day. At back to school night, we parents got to read what they’ve been writing about. Kaylee’s stories had many different topics, from soccer to the zoo to an upcoming birthday party. Colleen, on the other hand, wrote about one thing: animals. Our pets, her Grammy’s pets, animals in shelters, playing with animals, etc. I was wondering if this would be a problem, until I (nosily, I admit) peeked at the desk next to Colleen’s. The little boy’s mom had written a note to him: “I love your stories, but do you think you can write about anything other than football?” Apparently, for a 6-year-old, it’s a fine line between passion and obsession.